


An Avvar Love Story: LESSONS

by Mikkeneko



Series: AN AVVAR LOVE STORY [2]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Avvar!Hawke, Gen, M/M, terrible mangling of languages
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-22
Updated: 2015-09-22
Packaged: 2018-04-22 23:17:01
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 851
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4854392
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mikkeneko/pseuds/Mikkeneko
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hawke tries to help Anders get more in tune with his inner spirit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Avvar Love Story: LESSONS

**Author's Note:**

> Written for a request for eijentu on Tumblr.

“I don’t think I quite see the point of this,” Anders complains, even as he sits crosslegged on the mats across from Garrett. “Another language specifically for calling on spirits? The ship’s kind of sailed on that one; he’s _in_  my head now.”

“But you still find it difficult to talk to him, don’t you?” Garrett asks.

“Yes, well…” Anders shifts uncomfortably. “He’s part of me now. Generally speaking, crazy people talking to themselves are frowned on in polite society.”

“You’re not crazy,” Garrett tells him firmly. “And he may be joined with you, but he’s not _part_ of you – you’re still two distinct beings, with your own thoughts and voices. That’s part of what learning the spirit language will help – to build a structure and form to your thoughts, to clearly distinguish when you’re talking to your spirit and not for any other purpose. Trust me. It will help.”

Anders sighs. “If you say so,” he says, doubtful yet trusting as ever. He fidgets more, without Garrett’s lifelong practice at making himself comfortable on the mats. “Do I have to sit like this? I mean… is it a requirement? Because my back is killing me.”

“You can sit any way you’re comfortable with, as long as it helps you focus.” Anders rearranges himself, getting up from his crosslegged position onto his knees, sitting back on his heels; Garrett has to throttle down a blush as his mind strays unwanted to how casual and at ease Anders seems on his knees.

“Let’s start with greetings and farewells,” Garrett says quickly, reorienting himself back onto the lesson. “Some of them you’ve heard me use before – _halsingnar, valkommen, farval._ Let’s start with ‘erkänna.’ That’s sort of like, 'come out’ or maybe 'come forth.’  After all you can’t talk to him if he’s not here, can you? So try it after me: Erkänna.”

“Erkanna,” Anders parrots obediently, and repeats the word softly to himself, rolling it around in his mouth. “Erkanna, erkanna…”

“Erkänna,” Garrett corrects his pronunciation. “But the word is just the start. You have to really think about the _idea_  of it – of bringing your spirit forth, of him coming out into the world. That’s why the words are in their own language – this isn’t something you’d just say by accident, or for fun. You might say 'Come on’ to a friend you’re going somewhere with, or even 'oh come on!’ out of frustration, but you would never use the spirit words for trivial things. This is just for you and him.”

Anders sighs. “I don’t think this is going to work, Hawke,” he admits. “Justice doesn’t… I’ve never been able to tell him what to do. He’s incredibly stubborn, and I’m just too weak-willed. He’s never listened to me before and I don’t see why he’d start now.”

“You can’t give up now – we’re barely starting,” Garrett exhorts him. “Listen – the Avvar have been speaking to spirits with these words for thousands of years. Even if Justice himself has never been summoned by them – they leave an echo in the Land of Dreams, they have their own weight and shape there. He’ll hear you, I promise.”

Anders grimaces, but he gives up trying to pull away. He sinks back down onto the mats, mumbling under his breath something too low for Hawke to catch. “Erkanna,” he mutters, louder now. “Erkänna, erkänna… come on, you stubborn spirit…   **Erkänna, Justice!”**

The last two words come down with a rolle like thunder, a deep reverberation that trembles the walls. Anders’ eyes snap open, blazing spirit-blue, as lines of white fire wash over his skin.

Justice looks down on Garrett – imposing even on his knees, and frowns. “I do not think I approve of these incantations,” he says in his deep, rumbling voice. “I am not a common demon – I cannot be summoned, and I will not be tamed.”

“Of course not, Justice,” Garrett says quickly, placatingly. “We’re just practicing – isn’t it better to have a chance to practice in the mortal world when we’re _not_  in the middle of a life-threatening crisis?”

“That is…” Justice trails off, considering the argument. “Perhaps,” he allows. “But there is nothing for me to accomplish here, now; there are no battles to be fought, no injustices to avenge. This is Anders’ space, and it is he who should occupy it, not I.”

Before Garrett can protest, he’s gone again, the ozone smell and hair-raising static in the air dying down as the light flickers and vanishes. When Anders opens his eyes again they’re purely human, and wide with astonished amazement.

“I… I did it!” he stutters. “ _We_  did it – Justice and me! Did you see that, I called him, and he came! He actually came! He heard me, he listened to me, he really did!”

It’s the first time since he’s known the warden that he’s ever seen Anders smile like this – jubilant, happy, brimming over with excitement. Garrett smiles back, hoping his dusky skin hides the blood rushing to the surface of his skin – and silently redoubles his vow to teach Anders every word he knows.

* * *

 

~end

**Author's Note:**

> Apologies for the mangled language, which some readers may recognize as bearing a distinct resemblance to Swedish. When I was putting together some backstory for Avvar Hawke, a lot of the Avvar cultural aspects pinged me as being rather Norse in nature, so I wanted something properly scandanavian for them.


End file.
